


Appointment in Samarra

by Purna



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen, Originally Posted on LiveJournal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-04
Updated: 2007-12-04
Packaged: 2018-12-04 09:38:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11552463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purna/pseuds/Purna
Summary: Episode tag for "The Seer," Season 4, Episode 8.





	Appointment in Samarra

The Greeks had been big on the whole prophecy thing, Rodney knew that as well as anyone. He might have neglected the squishy softer side of higher education like bubonic plague, but certain things had stuck, to his chagrin. Foolish myths and stories took up space in his cerebral cortex, as unwanted and unwelcome as houseguests after their expiration date.  
  
_Seer_ , he thought in derision, suppressing the faint sense of unease that Davos' shared visions had inspired. Prophecy and fate linked together, just like the Greek play, trickster words tying poor schmuck Oedipus into knots.  
  
But his skepticism had melted away the instant Davos had taken his hand. _A vision like fire, lighting up the inside of his skull,_ and it had all felt familiar and right, like thick socks or a warm cat on his lap. It resonated with his memories of near Ascension, and that was when his stomach had firmly tied itself into knots.  
  
"Atlantis to McKay." An elbow poked into Rodney's ribs, Sheppard's amused drawl pulling him out of his thoughts. "You've been staring at that forkful of eggs a long time, buddy. Couldn't tell if you were eating or creating some weird kind of performance art."  
  
"Not sick, are you?" Ronon asked around a mouthful of hash browns. "Off your food?" He leaned over to rest a palm on Rodney's forehead.  
  
Rodney's fork clattered to his plate as he batted Ronon's hand away. "What are you, Ronon Nightingale? Get off me."  
  
Ronon shrugged and subsided, glancing over at Teyla, who didn't react. She was staring at Rodney, her gaze a little disconcerting.  
  
"What?" Rodney blurted. He shifted in his seat, wincing at the squeal of his chair scraping across the mess floor.  
  
"It's only a possible future, Rodney," Teyla said in a quiet voice. "My vision. You said that yourself."  
  
Rodney pinched the bridge of his nose, hard, as if he could squeeze his worries into submission. "And it's driving me crazy. I can see all these possibilities, but all the preparations in the world, and we could be doing the very things that bring about the destruction of Atlantis."  
  
He stopped short and hurriedly shoveled in some of his scrambled eggs. Avoiding the eyes of his teammates, he stared down at his plate.  
  
Under the table, someone nudged his knee, fleeting yet comforting. When Rodney looked up, it was Sheppard who was watching him closely, his expression unguarded, his mouth quirked slightly.  
  
Ronon grunted. "There was a seer like that. So the story goes. She had a vision of the Wraith coming for her. So she went through the Ring again and again, until she could go no further."  
  
Sheppard's voice was carefully neutral. "To find the Wraith waiting for her, right?"  
  
"Death in Samarkand," Rodney said, snapping his fingers at Sheppard. The little he'd eaten felt like rocks in his stomach. "Exactly. How do I know we're not making things worse?"  
  
Teyla reached over to still Rodney's hand with her own. "We do not. But we will deal with what happens, when it happens."  
  
"And we've got something that Ronon's seer didn't have," Sheppard said wryly.  
  
Rodney frowned. "Big guns?"  
  
Teyla chuckled, a happy, rich sound. Rodney didn't know how the hell she managed to laugh like that, not after experiencing the disastrous vision first-hand, but he realized that some of the knots in his stomach were easing.  
  
"We have each other, Rodney," she said earnestly. "I have faith in you. In this team, in all of Atlantis. We will manage."  
  
Ronon reached over to snag some of Rodney's bacon. "Team, McKay," he said, crunching down on a piece. "We've got team."


End file.
